The Disreputable History of Maximum Ride
by spottedleopard79
Summary: Max Age 14:Debate club,midly geeky,attends a high competitive boarding school.15:knockout figure, sharp tongue, a gorgeous new senior boyfriend,No longer the kinda girl to take no for an answer,expecially when no means being excluded from boyfriends all male secret society,not when she is smarter then all of them,not when there are many pranks to do.16:Maybe a criminal mastermind
1. A Piece Of Evidence

Hey everyone! This story is based off the story: The Disreputible History of Frankie Laudau-Banks. I know this chapter is short but everything but the character names came out of the actual book, this will be one of the only chapters where I do this. The next chapter will be much lobger, I promise. So please review or not only will I be sad, but so will the author of the real book.

**I do not own the words for this chapter, that belongs to E. Lockhart, and all the characters go to James Patterson.**

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December 14, 2007

To: Headmaster Gunther-Hagen and the Board of Directors, Alabaster Preparatory Academy

I, Maximum Ride, herby confess that I was the sole mastermind behind the mal-doings of the Loyal Order of the Basset Hounds. I take full responsibility for the disruptions caused by the Order- Including the Library Lady, the Doggies in the Window, the Night of a Thousand Dogs, the Canned Beet Rebellion, and the Abduction of the Guppy.

That is, I wrote the directives telling everyone what to do.

I, and I alone.

No matter what Iggy Walker told you in his statement.

Of course, the dogs of the Order are human beings with free will. They contribute their labor under no explicit compunction. I did not threat them or coerce them in any way, and if they chose to follow my instructions, it was not because they feared my retribution.

You have requested that I provide you with their names. I respectfully decline to do so. It's not for me to pugn or impugn their characters.

I would like to point out that many of the Order's escapades were intended as social criticism. And that many of the Order's members were probably diverted from more self-destructive behaviors by the activities prescribed them by me. So maybe my actions contributed to a larger good, despite the inconveniences you, no doubt, suffered.

I do understand the administrations disgruntlement over the incidents. I see that my behavior disrupted the smooth running of your patriarchal establishment. And yet I would to suggest that you view each of the Loyal Order's projects with the gruntlement that should attend the creative civil disobedience of students who are politically aware and artistically expressive.

I am not asking that you indulge my behavior; I merely ask you do not dulge it without considering its context.

Yours sincerely,

Maximum Ride

Class of 2010


	2. Swan

I'm back! I actually wanted to update this earlier but I was too lazy too. Sense not many people care about the authors notes I will keep it short and simple. So yeah...**Review!**

**I don't own Maximum Ride or anything in this story that belongs to E. LockHart, which is most of it. **

Nothing Maximum or any of the Order have done was as startling as what happened to Max the summer before her sophomore year. It was disturbing to her mother, Valencia, got many of the boys in her New Jersey neighborhood to think (and for some, act upon) things they never thought they would of her.

It ever startled Max herself.

Between the months of May and September she gained four inches and twenty pound, in all the right places. What was one a scrawny, awkward girl, with hands too big for her arms and a frizz ball for hair, became a curvy young woman that boys found appealing. She grew into her heart shaped face, filled out her figure, all while lying on the hammock in the backyard while reading mystery novels and drinking lemonade.

The only thing Max herself did to change was use a new leave in conditioner to tame her frizz of hair. She was not the kind of girl for a makeover. She had been going along in her boarding school without one. Max had only gotten by in Alabaster Prep boarding school because of her older sister, Zada. Zada had been a senior when Max had started, although not exceedingly popular she protected her and introduced her to her friends. Zada had a solid group of friends that were known for speaking their minds, no matter the punishment for doing so.

Zada had also introduced Max to the people of the crew team, lacrosse team, student government, and the debate team. The last one she had joined. It turns out Max had a sharp tongue, and had proven to be a strong competitor. Max had kept the side of her bargain freshman year by not embarrassing Zada as much as she could possibly help. By summers end, when Max had seen Zada off to Berkeley, Max was lithe, curvy, and possessed enough oomph to stop teenaged boys in the street when she passed by. Even though Max had changed physically she had not yet changed mentally that would make her do all her so called, miss-behaviors. Mentally, Max was not yet the near criminal mastermind who created the Fish Liberation Society, and who will, as an adult, probably be the head of the CIA, direct action movies, design rocket ships, or possibly (if she takes the wrong path), rule over a group of organized criminals.

At the beginning of sophomore year, Max was none of these things. She was a girl who liked to read, had only ever had one boyfriend, enjoyed the debate team, and still kept gerbils in a Habit rail. She was very smart, but there was nothing ambitious about her or strange about her mental function.

Her favorite food was guacamole and her favorite color was white.

She had never been in love.

The Day after Zada's departure, Max and her mother went to the Jersey Shore for a four day weekend with her Uncles and cousins. Both of her Uncles were divorced with kids. They rented a four bedroom house for the weekend. She didn't know how they would all fit, but if she would sleep on the lump old couch if it meant getting out of sharing a room.

Max's cousins were all around the ages of ten to thirteen, all of them boys. A pack of vile creatures, in Max's view, give to pummeling one another, throwing food, farting, and messing with Max's stuff unless she locked the door to her bedroom.

Every day the group lugged beach chairs, blankets, pretzels, cans of beer (for her uncles, though she was sure her cousins would get their hands on some when no one was looking), juice boxes, and sports equipment down to the beach, where they stayed for an entire six hours. Max couldn't read a novel without having a sand crab placed on her knee, a bucket of saltwater dumped on her abdomen, or a box of grape juice spilled on her towel. She couldn't swim without some cousin trying to grab her legs or splash her. She couldn't eat without one of the boys nipping a chip off her plate or kicking sand across her food.

On the last day of vacation, Max lay on a beach blanket listening to her balding, gently paunchy uncles discuss the Jackal's minor-league season. Max's mother dozed in a beach chair. For the moment, at least, the cousins were in the water, having breath holding contests and occasionally trying to drown each other.

"Can I go to town?" Max asked.

Valencia lifted her sunglasses off her face and squinted at her daughter. "How come?"

"To walk around. Get an ice cream. Maybe buy some postcards," Max answered. She wanted to get away from all of them. The togetherness, the sports talk, the farting and pummeling.

Valencia turned to her brothers, "Holden, isn't it, like, fifteen blocks to the center of town? How far would you say it is?"

Yeah, fifteen blocks," Said Uncle Holden. "She shouldn't go alone."

"I'm not going with her." Valencia put her glasses back on her nose. "I came here to relax on the beach , not look at postcards in tourist shops."

"I can go on my own," Said Max. She didn't want Valencia with her anyway. "Fifteen blocks isn't that far."

"There are some shady characters around here," warned Uncle Holden. "Atlantic City is only a few miles north."

"Bunny, you don't know your way around," said Valencia.

"The house is 42 Sea Line Avenue," replied Max. "I make a left on Oceanview and it's a straight shot to where the shops are. I went to the supermarket with Uncle Ratchet, remember."

Valencia pursed her lips. "I don't think it's a good idea."

"What do you think is gonna happen? I'm not gonna get in a car with any strange men. I have a cell phone."

"It's not a town we know," said Valencia, "I don't want to argue about this."

"But what do you think will happen?"

"I don't want to get into this."

How do you I cross the street when I'm at Alabaster, huh?"

"Bunny Rabbit."

"Because I cross the street when you're not there, Mom, News flash."

Uncle Ratchet spoke. "Let her go, Valencia. I let Paulie go in last year when he was only twelve and he was fine."

"See?" Max turned to her mother.

"Stay out of it, Ratchet," snapped Valencia. "Don't make my life difficult."

"You let Paulie walk to town but not me? Paulie still picks his nose. That is such a double standard."

"It is not," Valencia answered. "What Ratchet does with Paulie is up to him, and what I do with you is up to me."

"You're treating me like a baby."

"No, I'm not, Bunny," Valencia said, " I'm treating you like a very attractive, still very young, teenaged girl."

"With no brain."

"With maybe not the best judgment," said Valencia.

"Sense when do I have bad judgment?"

"Sense you want to go to town fifteen blocks away when we don't know the area and you're wearing a string bikini." Valencia was cross now. "I wish I never let you go shopping for suits with Zada. Really, Max, you're wearing hardly any clothes, you go into town, you get lost, what do you think is gonna happen?"

"I'd call you on the cell."

"That's not my point."

"So what- if I were unattractive, you would let me go?" Max asked.

"Don't start that"

How 'bout I stop by the house and put on a dress?"

"Max."

"If I were a boy then would you have let me?"

"You want to spoil our last day with a fight?" snapped Valencia. "Is that what you want?"

"No."

"So stop talking back. Leave it alone and enjoy the beach."

"Fine. I will go to the boardwalk." Max stood and shoved her feet into her flip flops, grabbed her bag where her wallet was, and stalked across the sand.

"Be back in an hour!" called Valencia. "Call me on my cell if you're going to be late."

Max didn't answer.

It wasn't that she wanted postcards- or even that she wanted to go to town that much. It wasn't that Valencia had too much rules, either; or that Paulie got to go to town last year.

The problem was that to them- to Uncle Holden and her mother, and maybe even Uncle Ratchet- Max was Bunny Rabbit.

Not a person of intelligence, a sense of direction, and the ability to use a cell phone. Not a person who could use a cell phone.

Not even a person who could walk fifteen blocks all by herself without getting run over by a car.

To them, she was Bunny Rabbit.

Innocent.

In need of protection.

Inconsequential.


	3. Old Boys

Hey everyone. Sorry if this took awhile, I had inspiration for a story on Wattpad. If you guys wanna read it I have the link of my profile. Fang is mentioned in this chapter. When he does appear his personality maybe different then in the books. I'm trying to make him somewhat like the character in the book this is based on (Matthew) but still make him Fangy, you know? Anyway, which out futher ado, chapter 3!

**I don't own Maximum Ride, or anything (that I didn't tweek) that was in the original book. Those belong to James Patterson and .**

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A half hour later and two hundred yards down the boardwalk, Max was shivering in that string bikini. She'd eaten half a chocolate frozen yogurt before the sky could cloud over. Now the cone was giving her chills, but it cost nearly five dollars and she couldn't bring herself to throw it away.

Her hands felt sticky and she wished she brought a sweatshirt.

"You gonna eat that?"

Max turned. Sitting on the edge of the boardwalk with his feet dangling was a husky, sandy-haired boy, about seventeen years old. His small friendly eyes squinted against the wind; his nose was dotted with freckles.

"It's too cold."

Max stared at him. "Didn't your mamma teach you not to beg?"

The boy laughed. "She tried, but it appears I can't be trained."

"You really want frozen yogurt some stranger has licked? That's disgusting."

"So it is," said the boy, reaching out a hand for the cone. "But only a little." Max let him have it. He stuck out his tongue and touched the yogurt. Then he squashed the top down on the cone, putting his whole mouth over it. "See? Now the worst is over and it's my own spit. And I have frozen yogurt for free."

"Uh-huh."

"You'd be surprised what people will do if you ask them."

"I didn't want it anyhow."

"I know." The boy grinned. "But you might have given it to me even if you did want it. Just because I asked. Don't you thing?"

"That's a lot of chutzpah you got there. Don't let it weight you down."

"I hate to see food go to waste. I'm always hungry." The boy raised his eyebrows, and suddenly Max felt that her mother was right about the string bikini. It was not enough clothing.

She was standing in what was basically her underwear, talking to a strange boy.

What was actually smaller than her underwear.

To a cute boy.

"What grade are you in?" she asked. To talk about something ordinary.

""Going into twelfth. And you?"

"Tenth."

"You're an infant!"

"Don't say that."

"All right." He shrugged. "But I thought you were older."

"Well, I'm not."

"What school do you go to?"

"It's in northern Massachusetts." Max said what Alabaster students always say, to avoid the embarrassment of admitting they go to the most expensive, most academically rigorous private schools in the nation. The way Yale students inevitably say they go to school in New Haven.

"Where?" the boy asked.

"Why, do you know northern Massachusetts?"

"A little. I go to Landmark in New York City."

"Oh."

"Now you owe me. Where do you go?"

"It's called Alabaster."

"Shocker." A smile crossed the boy's face.

"What?"

"Come on. Everyone's heard of Alabaster. Exeter, Andover, Alabaster. A triumvirate of preparatory academies."

"I guess so." Max blushed.

"I drove down here just for the afternoon. From the city." said the boy.

"By yourself?"

He shrugged. "Yeah. I had a fight with the menstrual unit."

"The what?"

"My mom. The menstrual unit, the maternal unit, you know."

"You're mad at your mom so you're down here by yourself scrounging yogurt off girls?"

"Something like that."

Max's cell buzzed in her bag. "Speaking of mothers," she said. She flipped the phone open. "Mine is on the rampage."

"Where are you?" Valencia demanded. "I'm walking own the boardwalk and I don't see you anywhere."

"I'm by the yogurt stand. What?"

"Paulie stepped on a jelly fish. We're packing up. What yogurt stand? There are at least five yogurt stands."

"Hold on." Max didn't want her mother to see this boy. This smart, strange boy she probably shouldn't be talking to. And she didn't want the boy to see Valencia, either. "She's yanking my chain," she told him, and held out her hand. "I gotta go."

His hand felt warm and solid in hers. "Good luck at school," he said. "Maybe I'll see you around."

"Max? Max! Who are you talking to?" Valencia's voice barked into the phone.

"You're not gonna see me around," Max laughed, beginning to walk away. "You live in New York City."

"Maybe I do and maybe I don't," called the boy. "You said Alabaster, right?"

"That's right."

"Okay, then."

"I gotta go." Max put the phone back to her ear. "Mom, I'm on my way back. I'll be there in five. Will you please relax?"

"Good-bye!" called the boy.

Max shouted back: "I hope you liked the yogurt."

"I like vanilla better!" he called.

And when she turned around to look for him again, he was gone.

Max's dad, Jeb, had wanted a son. However, he did realize that sense Valencia was forty- two when Max was born, he probably wasn't getting one. He decided that he would just name the baby girl something as close to a boy's name as he could get. So they named her Maximum, and called her what they called her.

When Max was five, her parents had divorced. Valencia found Jeb dismissive of her intellectual capabilities and personal endeavors. Jeb (a WASP atheist) found Valencia's observant Judaism an irritant, and felt the pressures of maintaining relationships with two young girls and a somewhat cranky wife were in the way of the perfection of his golf game and the advancement in his medical profession (which wasn't as good as he wished). After separation, Valencia took the kids to live near her family in New Jersey, while Jeb remained in Boston, paying monthly visits to the children- and all the boarding school bills.

Jeb Ride was a doctor specializing in lung problems. Mentally, however, he was an Old Boy- more concerned with his network of Ivy League cronies than he was with the diseases of his patients. He had attended Alabaster (back when it was all male), followed by Harvard, just as _his_ father had attended Alabaster followed by Harvard.

"Old Boy" means alum, but to Max's mind- even before her intellectual explosion sophomore year- the oxymoron was apt. Jeb's boyhood days were still the largest looming factor in his concept of himself. His former school fellows were his closest friends. They were the people who he golfed with, the people he invited for drinks, the people's whose country homes he visited on vacations. They were the people he recommended for jobs; people who sent him patients and asked him to sit on boards of art organizations; people who connect him to other people. His medical practice had become considerably more profitable in the decade sense his divorce from Valencia.

When Max was starting sophomore year, she and Valencia drove to Boston and collected Jeb for the last leg of the trip. Despite his relative lack of involvement in her life, Max's dad wasn't going to miss a chance to stroll the old campus and remember his glory days. He and Valencia retained a tight and false goodwill as the car headed into North Massachusetts.

As he drove, Jeb was talking about skating on the pond; going to football games. "These are the best years of your life," He boomed, "Right now is when you make the friendships that are gonna last you a lifetime. These people will get you jobs, you'll get them jobs. It's a network that's gonna give you opportunities, Bunny Rabbit. Opportunities."

Valencia sighed. "Jeb, really. The workplace is more democratic now."

"If it's changing," Jeb snorted, "why am I paying for Alabaster?"

"To get her an education?"

"I'm not paying for the education. She could get that for ten thousand less a year. I'm paying for the connections."

Max's mother shrugged. "I'm just saying, take a bit of the pressure off. Let Bunny find her own way."

"Hello Mom," Said Max from the backseat. "I can speak for myself."

Jeb took a swig of coffee from a thermos. "I'm being practical, Valencia. This is how the world operates. You get in with the club, you're in with the club, and it makes life easier. Then it's a cinch to meet the right people to get done what you want to get done in the world."

"Nepotism."

"It's not nepotism, it's how the universe operates. People hire people they know- it's natural. Max is forming loyalties- and people are forming loyalties to her."

"Dad, I've already been there a year. You're talking like I've never been to the place."

"Sophomore year is when it really started happening to me."

Max thought: Poor Jeb. He has no life. Just a memory of a life. It's pitiful.

And then she thought: I have no friends at Alabaster that I like as nearly as much as Jeb still likes his friends from high school.

Maybe it's me who's pitiful.

And then she thought: His whole clubby thing is dumb.

And then she thought: I'd like to go to Harvard.

And then she thought- because this was the thing she'd been thinking about for most of the drive to Alabaster: I wonder if Fang Livingston will notice me this year.


End file.
